May Day

Today was my first complete May Day.

For the past five years I've had to skip part of the festivities. I was studying for my comprehensive exams or living in the North Country and had to leave early in the day to get back and grocery shop and prep for the week ahead. I would try to go, when possible, but often I was missing part of the day.

May Day is a mashup of many of the things I love about Minneapolis. A slow morning with coffee and doughnuts from The Baker's Wife. A long walk through South Minneapolis to the parade route. Getting to see all the weirdos and friends from the neighborhood at the parade. The puppets, the weird mad joy of the thing, and afterward, a long cookout in the backyard, drinking lemonade and talking about important and not important things.

I love May Day.

Especially this year, coming on the heels of a particularly emotionally intense week. I socialized or had a work function every day for seven days straight, leaving my inner introvert screaming bloody murder at me. I saw Hamlet live, fulfilling a dream I've had for the past eleven years (and crossing something off my 30x30 list). I got a promotion and had my ED tell me what a fantastic job she thinks I'm doing. Our new website won a redesign award and the guys who designed it started crying when they talked about how much it meant to them to get to work with us.

Today when I got out of bed, it was like the preceding seven days took my knees out from under me. I was exhausted and my emotional tank was running on fumes. I couldn't even begin to fathom spending the day with people I knew only slightly (May Day festivities are open to more than just my immediate circle of friends) and I seriously began to contemplate texting my apologies, barring the door, and spending the day inside with books and tea and Mozart.

My love for May Day won out and I told myself that I only had to go for the parade. I was allowed to skip the cookout afterward if I was still exhausted.

When I got to the house where we were all meeting to walk over together, I was immediately greeted with Baker's Wife doughnuts. I got to sit down and talk to two people I've known peripherally for awhile now and they were incredibly kind, welcoming, and warm. We walked to the parade and I geeked out over a Pete Seeger puppet and an entire section of the parade devoted to the importance of bees. When the parade was over we walked back and cooked out and when more people I don't know terribly well arrived I managed not only to keep my seat, but enjoy myself and drop something on myself once.

My last May Day was two years ago. I had to leave early to hurry back to the North Country and I remember when I arrived home I burst into tears. It had been an intense weekend in the Cities, and I was pathetically grateful to return to a quiet house where I could snuggle up with tea and books and Bach. My emotional tank was running on fumes and I was as over-stimulated as an introvert can get.

When I was in college the Benedictines made a huge deal out of a couple things. A commitment to hospitality and a dedication to vocation were at the top of their list and influenced me beyond my ability to articulate. They are values I try to emulate in my life as an adult. But the value the Benedictines pounded into my head, the one that I never stop thinking about, is the desire for an authentic community. I think constantly about how we are only as strong as the relationships we're part of and the people we let in past our guard.

When I got home from the festivities today I dropped my bags, took the longest, hottest shower imaginable, and fell into bed in my bathrobe with a warm washcloth over my eyes. My inner introvert was having a panic attack, my emotional tank was completely dry, and I was too tired to move. I couldn't help it. I started to cry.  But this year it was less from over-stimulation and more from the simple realization that I didn't have to leave early. For the first time in years I got to spend the entire day with the people I love most without having to leave early or take a day off work. I am immeasurably lucky to have chosen these people to let in under my guard, and even luckier to finally be back in a place where they're not just friends, but are back to being my community.

Happy May Day.